


Quarantine

by anotetofollow



Series: Fanfic Commissions [2]
Category: Mass Effect: Andromeda
Genre: Alien kids, Andromeda Initiative, Childcare on the Nexus is wild, Comedy of Errors, F/M, Fluff, Nexus Staff - Freeform, Salarian/Human Romance, post-Meridian
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-03
Updated: 2017-11-08
Packaged: 2019-01-28 22:42:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,478
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12617188
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anotetofollow/pseuds/anotetofollow
Summary: Michelle Mayer is the Andromeda Initiative's Director of Pediatrics. Being responsible for the welfare of every child on the Nexus is a hard enough job - dealing with Jarun Tann is another problem altogether.A multi-part fic commission for tumblr user @bunnythemonsterslayer





	1. Organised Chaos

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first of a two-part fic commission for tumblr user @bunnythemonsterslayer - thank you so much! I'm having a blast writing Michelle!

“Tycho! Tycho, no!” Michelle crouched down beside the toddler, and managed to prise a stick of celery out of his hand before he shoved it into his mouth. “What have we talked about?”

The turian boy looked put out, his mandibles twitching in annoyance. “No levo.”

“That’s right.” Michelle put the stick of celery in her pocket, where it joined a number of balled-up tissues and a small plastic cow. “Levo will make you sick. Just dextro for you, Ty. Ask me next time, okay?”

“Okay.” Tycho looked unconvinced. Michelle made a mental note to check that the allergy kit was well-stocked.

Once she was sure that Tycho had not hidden any more food upon his person, she returned to her office to attempt to catch up on the day’s paperwork. The week’s paperwork. The month’s. In fact, she was not sure that her files had been up to date since the department opened.

When Michelle Mayer had gone into cryo her job title had been ‘Assistant Care Provider’. When she was brought out of stasis it was ‘Director of Pediatrics’. Her first day in Andromeda had been, to put it lightly, a little overwhelming. She had spent hours sitting in the cryo bay, shivering and sipping endless cups of coffee, while a lab assistant filled her in on what had happened since they arrived in the galaxy that was supposed to be their new home. The Scourge, the uprising, the eventual arrival of the Hyperion, Pathfinder Ryder’s altercations with the Kett - and first contact.

The angara were what interested Michelle most. She had spent years studying alien biology and culture back in the Milky Way, and she was delighted that the Initiative had encountered a new species without things becoming hostile. There was little time for excitement, however; after her informal briefing with the lab assistant she was sent straight to Operations, still dizzy and cold to her bones.

There a turian personnel officer had informed her, with little preamble, about what the problems on the Nexus meant for her. Her superiors in the department had been brought out of statis months before, and almost all of them had died in the uprising. The ones who hadn’t were living as exiles in Kadara Port. This, it was explained to her, meant that there had been an unexpected shift in command, and she was now responsible for the whole of Pediatrics.

Michelle had a thousand questions, but before she could ask a single one of them the turian told her the last bit of pertinent information - they would begin bringing the Initiative’s children out of stasis in under a week.

Since then Michelle had barely had time to stop and breathe. Hundreds of years and millions of miles had passed in the blink of an eye, and suddenly she found herself responsible for a whole new generation of colonists. There was no point arguing about it. She had a job to do, and she would do it to the best of her ability. She tried not to dwell too much on the missing personnel, the lack of resources and the ever-increasing stack of reports she needed to file. Dislodging crayons from nasal passages on a daily basis had an odd effect on your priorities.

After the incident with Tycho, Michelle managed to work in her office for almost half an hour before someone knocked on her door. A new personal record.

“Come in,” she called, hitting send on the memo she had been writing.

Michelle’s assistant Saavi let herself into the room. The asari looked exhausted, but she smiled at her boss as she walked into the office. “Hey. Is it a good time?”

“It’s never a good time,” Michelle said brightly. “Which means it’s as good a time as any, I suppose. Everything alright?”

“Sort of,” Saavi said, moving a stack off files off a chair so she could sit down. “It’s Tosaan.”

“Is he still not talking?” Michelle asked.

Saavi shook her head. “We’ve been trying, but he still won’t say a word in front of the other children. His mothers say he’s fine at home.”

Michelle was a little concerned by this, though she tried not to let it show in front of her assistant. Tosaan was the youngest of an angaran family who had recently relocated to the Nexus. The group was part of a cultural exchange programme, scheduled to remain on the station for six months while a family from the Initiative went to Aya. Tosaan’s older siblings were fitting in well with their peers, but he was still closed off. Michelle’s knowledge of the angara was frustratingly limited at best, and she was unsure how best to proceed.

“I’ve read all the files,” Saavi continued. “More than once. There’s a lot on angaran politics and biology and technology, but hardly anything on social groups. Even less on children.”

“It makes sense, I suppose,” Michelle said. “It’s personal. If a new species turned up in the Milky Way would the asari be keen to tell them about Ardat-Yakshi?”

Saavi smirked. “Point taken. Took us a few decades to tell you after the First Contact war.”

“Exactly.” Michelle glanced briefly at the overflowing inbox on her terminal, grimaced, and turned off the display. “Leave it with me. I’ll deal with it.”

“Thanks, Michelle,” Saavi said, getting up from her chair. “I appreciate it.” She went to leave, and was almost at the door when she snapped her fingers and turned around. “Oh, one more thing! Kala spilled juice in the air conditioner again. Sorry.”

Michelle nodded slowly, her eyes half closed. “Of course she did. Well. I will deal with that too.”

* * *

Despite her best intentions, Michelle got very little paperwork done that morning. Not long after Saavi left one of her other assistants, Zavier, turned up to report an altercation between two of their krogan charges. Before long Michelle had given up on administration and returned to the main Pediatrics complex to handle the day’s various problems.

In truth, she preferred working directly with the children to sitting behind a desk anyway. That was what she was trained for, and what she was good at. The other trappings of her new station were a necessary evil. More often than not she started out her day in her office, and ended it sitting on the floor with several small, sticky children hanging off her.

As usual, she insisted that her staff take their lunch breaks first, and the cafeteria was nearly empty when she arrived. She grabbed something from the levo-amino section - not bothering to check what exactly it was - and was about to rush back to her department when she caught sight of Director Tann across the room. A thought occurred to her then. Abandoning her lunch, she walked over to where he stood.

He was deep in discussion with a well-armoured turian, and Michelle hovered a polite distance  away from the pair until they had finished talking. As soon as the turian left she stepped forward, waving to catch the Director’s eye.

“Ms. Mayer,” he said. “I have a meeting to get to. Is there something you need?”

“This won’t take a moment,” Michelle said. “I just needed to talk to you about one of our angaran children.”

“Alara is the cultural attach é for Aya,” Tann said. “I suggest you-”

“Alara can’t approve new Initiative personnel,” she interrupted. “You can.”

Tann’s eyelids twitched at her tone. “Our resources are not infinite, Ms. Mayer. Your department is better-staffed than most.”

“I know,” Michelle said, trying to keep her tone polite. “But, Director, with all due respect, we are not equipped to care for the angaran children. They’re a new species. We don’t have enough information. If we could hire another care assistant - one from Aya - they could help the rest of us adapt to their needs.”

The Director sighed. “I appreciate your concern for your charges, but I’m afraid this just isn’t a priority right now. If you file a request to Operations it will be reviewed as soon as possible.”

Michelle balked a little at that. “Not a priority? Director, we’re trying to forge an alliance with the angara, aren’t we? If we can’t look after their children properly that is going to go south  _ very  _ quickly.”

That seemed to give Tann pause. His face was passive, but he nodded slowly at her words. “I will take it under consideration,” he said at last. “If you’ll excuse me.”

“Director-”

“Ms. Mayer,” he said. “I will take it under consideration.”

Michelle knew when she was beat. “Thank you, Director,” she said. “I look forward to hearing from you.”

Director Tann gave her a curt nod and left. She watched him go, trying to puzzle out whether she had impressed or irritated him. Salarians were difficult to read at the best of times, but the Director more than most. Michelle believed that it was important to be friendly with your coworkers, and she had attempted to chat to him several times both before and after her stasis. Each time he had found some excuse to be elsewhere, and she was sure that this was the most the two of them had ever spoken.

_ Well _ , she thought.  _ It’s a start _ .

* * *

The next week passed in a flurry of activity, just like the weeks before it. Two more human children were taken out of cryo, and a new clutch of salarian eggs were brought into the department’s clinic. Michelle had been run off her feet, as usual. It seemed that as soon as she dealt with one situation, two more sprang up in its place. If it wasn’t for her assistants and a near-constant supply of coffee she didn’t know how she would have coped with it.

Michelle was helping Saavi supervise a reading group one morning when she noticed a young angaran woman standing in the department lobby. She looked a little lost, and Michelle left her assistant to finish up the session while she went to see what was happening.

“Hello?” Michelle called as she approached the angaran. “Can I help you?”

“Ms. Mayer?” the woman said.

“That’s right.”

The angaran looked relieved. “I’m Shuri.”

The name didn’t ring any bells. “Shuri?”

“Director Tann sent my personnel folder over last week,” she said. “I’m supposed to start as your new assistant today.”

Michelle thought of the dozens of messages sitting unopened in her inbox. She smiled up at the angara. “Of course!  _ That _ Shuri. Come in, let me show you around.”

After giving Shuri a tour of the department Michelle left her new assistant in Zavier’s capable hands, then hurried off to her office to check her terminal. Sure enough, there was Shuri’s personnel file, sandwiched between a memo from Maintenance and an expense receipt. She opened it, and read through the details as quickly as she was able.

Michelle was impressed. Shuri had been caring for children on Aya for almost a decade, and she held qualifications in biology and child psychology. She couldn’t have been a better fit. Her expertise could revolutionise the way Pediatrics cared for their angaran children. Michelle began to think of the possibilities; properly educating the Nexus children about angaran customs and culture could pave the way for future understanding. If the Initiative could demonstrate their competency in this to Aya they might even consider sharing more data, collaborating on research…

Michelle forced herself to slow down a little. Those were all things to think about later. For now she had to focus on getting Shuri settled in, and seeing if she could help Tosaan begin socialising with the other children.  _ One step at a time _ , she reminded herself.

There was a vid message attached to Shuri’s file. Michelle opened it, expecting client testimonials, and was surprised when Director Tann materialised on her terminal screen. From the scattered datapads and half-empty coffee cup next to him Michelle guessed that he had recorded the message in his office, in a hurry.

“Ms. Mayer,” he said, the recording making his voice a little fuzzy at the edges. “I apologise for being short with you in the cafeteria the other day. I thought over what you said, and I have to concede that there’s sense in it. Keeping the angara on side is crucial, and caring for their children without the proper resources is a diplomatic disaster waiting to happen. A new assistant will be arriving from Aya within the week. I’ve attached her details to this message. Take care.” The message ended abruptly.

Her stomach sinking, Michelle checked to see when the files had been sent. Four days had passed since Director Tann had approved her request. Four days, and she hadn’t responded to thank him. She hadn’t even acknowledged the favour. He probably thought she had been ignoring him deliberately.

“Shit!”

Michelle got to her feet, grabbing her coat from where she had tossed it on the back of her chair. She wasn’t sure whether she owed Tann a thank you or an apology or both. Either way, she had to do it in person, and she had to do it now.


	2. Lockdown

The door to Tann’s office was closed when Michelle arrived. His assistant informed her that the Director was in a meeting, but that he should be finished up soon if she wanted to wait. Michelle took a seat on one of the uncomfortable couches in the vestibule, half-watching the colony vids on the screens around her as she waited.

A few minutes had passed when the door to Tann’s office hissed open. Kesh stormed out seconds later, her face a flat mask of anger. The krogan marched over to the reception desk, and the assistant shrank back a little as she approached.

“I need you to book Tann into a meeting,” she said. “Tomorrow morning. Maintenance.”

The assistant pulled up something on their terminal. “I’m afraid Director Tann is busy until the afternoon-”

“Move something around.” Kesh leaned across the desk. “I’m sure that’s not beyond your capabilities.”

“I- I’ll see what I can do.”

Kesh nodded, then turned to leave. Catching sight of Michelle, she paused. “I’d leave it if I were you,” she said. “Number Eight is being even more insufferable than usual.” She walked out of the vestibule without waiting for a reply.

“Don’t mind her,” the assistant said. “She and Tann are always butting heads over something. You can go in now.”

“Thank you.” Still feeling a little uneasy, Michelle got to her feet and walked over to the office door.

Tann was at his terminal when she entered the room. He was typing furiously, and his eyes were half-lidded with anger. Michelle guessed that whatever he and Kesh had spoken about, it hadn’t left the Director in a good mood. She wondered whether she had picked the right time to visit.

“Ms. Mayer,” Tann said, not looking up from the screen. “Take a seat. I’ll be with you shortly.”

Michelle did as she was asked, pulling up a chair and waiting patiently while the Director finished off whatever angry memo he was sending out. When Tann was done he sat back in his chair and breathed out a long, slow sigh.

“Sorry to keep you,” he said. “What’s the problem? Is there an issue with your new assistant?”

“What?” Michelle said. “Oh, no. Shuri’s great. There’s no problem.”

“Then why are you here, Ms. Mayer?”

His blunt tone knocked her off kilter a little. “I, ah. I just wanted to thank you. For approving my request, I mean. I appreciate it.”

“Oh.” Tann blinked, then turned back to his terminal screen. “Personnel requests fall under my remit. I approve those that are necessary. You don’t need to thank me for doing my job.”

Michelle frowned at him. “I know I don’t  _ need _ to,” she said. “But you said yourself, resources are tight. You did the department a good turn.”

“You’re mistaking necessity for altruism, Ms. Mayer,” he said. “Your point about angaran relations was a good one. Your request was reviewed, and approved. You’re making too much of it.”

“I disagree, Director.” Michelle knew that she should drop it, but Tann’s words had rankled her. “We’re trying to build a new society here. Don’t you think supporting each other is important?”

Tann closed his eyes for a moment, then reluctantly turned away from his terminal. “It is, of course,” he said. “However, I think-”

Michelle never got to find out what it was that Tann thought. An ear-splitting klaxon cut him off mid-sentence, and the lights in the room dimmed to red. Tann got out of his chair and moved towards the door, but it had shut and locked before he reached it.

“What’s going on?” Michelle shouted over the alarm.

“I’m not sure,” Tann replied, returning to his desk and pulling up his comms. “Hang on.”

He tapped his Omni-tool a few times, and a moment later a turian’s face appeared on the comms screen.

“Kandros,” Tann said. “What is this? What’s happening?”

“Don’t panic, sir,” Kandros said, his voice calm. “It’s a precautionary measure. One of the planetside researchers brought an alien pathogen on board. Our scanners didn’t pick it up.”

The Director’s eyes narrowed. “Explain to me why this isn’t a cause for panic?”

“It was caught early,” Kandros said. “Medical says it’s non-lethal, they just want us to enforce a temporary quarantine while we run decontamination protocols.”

Michelle had heard enough. Moving off to the side of the room, she opened the comm link in her own Omni-tool and patched a call through to Pediatrics. The alarms stopped while she was waiting for someone to pick up, but the red light on the door panel remained as it was.

“Hello?”

Michelle recognised Saavi’s voice. “Hey,” she breathed. “You guys okay in there?”

“Not really,” Saavi said. “Kids freaked out when they heard the alarms. Do you know what’s happening?”

“Temporary quarantine. Nothing to worry about, apparently. Are all the kids accounted for?”

“Yeah. Luckily it happened in the middle of classes. None of them are stuck alone anywhere.”

Michelle breathed a sigh of relief. “Good. Right. Okay. Here’s what I want you to do. Send out a memo to all the parents. Tell them their children are safe, and that you’ll contact them as soon as you’ve got more information.”

“Got it. Anything else?”

“Standard panic-button procedure,” Michelle said. “Vids and snacks. They’ll calm down once they realise classes are cancelled. Oh, and if you could-”

“Ms. Mayer.” Tann called to her from his desk. He was still speaking to Kandros. “Can that wait? I have important things to deal with.”

Michelle’s temper flared. “So do I,” she said. “I’ve got a department full of terrified kids. Is that not important?”

Tann looked as though he was going to say something, then thought better of it. He nodded at her before returning to his own call.

The two of them spent the next hour making frantic calls on opposite sides of the office, each trying to sort out their own set of problems. Kandros had said that the lockdown would be in place for at least a few hours. Michelle was getting agitated. She trusted her staff implicitly, but she hated not being there while something like this was happening. She kicked herself for hurrying over to Operations when she had. Tann hadn’t even acknowledged her thanks. It suddenly seemed like a pointless waste of time.

After a while they ran out of people to contact. Things were calming down on the station, and all that was left to do was wait it out. Tann, predictably, returned his attention to his terminal. Luckily Michelle’s datapad had been in her jacket pocket, and she had plenty of work to do. Perhaps this would be a blessing, she thought. Finally she had some time to catch up with the million small jobs she had been putting off. She found a half-comfortable spot on the floor - spending your time with children gave you a great appreciation for sitting on the floor - and got to work.

After answering a few messages Michelle turned her attention to other matters. She opened a file on her datapad and laid it down in front of her, then set her Omni-tool to record.

“KSSSH.” Michelle enunciated the sound as loudly as she was able. She listened back to it and, pleased with the results, set it to record again. “DRRRT.”

“Ms. Mayer?”

Michelle looked up. She had half forgotten that Tann was there. The Director was staring at her with a look of abject confusion on his face.

“What are you doing?”

“Sorry.” Michelle felt herself colour. “Krogan phonics.”

“I can’t say I understand,” he frowned.

“Language tools,” Michelle said. She picked up her datapad and zoomed in on a set of characters, then held it up for Tann to look at. “See that? It’s the most common phoneme in most Tuchankan dialects. If children can link the sounds to their characters, their spelling and written language improves. This one sounds like SH-”

Tann held out a hand to stop her. “Yes, Ms. Mayer, I think I understand,” he said. “I didn’t know you spoke Krogan.”

“Well,” Michelle said, wrinkling her nose. “Technically the krogan don’t have a single language. There’s not as much linguistic diversity as on other homeworlds, but there’s still a few distinct vernaculars.”

The Director nodded thoughtfully at that. “Do you speak any other languages?”

“A little bit of nearly everything,” she said. “Enough to get by, anyway. I’m trying to learn a few angaran dialects right now.”

“How is that going?”

“Not well.” Michelle tried to make the purring sound so common in Ayan languages, and failed. “See?”

To Michelle’s great surprise, Tann laughed at her botched attempt. She did not think she had ever seen him laugh before. He looked like a different person without a frown plastered across his face.

“I wonder,” he said. “Do you speak any Talatian?”

“Of course,” Michelle nodded. It was the official language of Sur’Kesh, common among spacefaring salarians. “Can’t promise it’ll be good, though. Turn your translator off.”

Tann did as he was asked, then sat back in his chair and gestured for her to continue.

“Ahem.” Michelle cleared her throat, then searched for something to say. “ _ I sigh and breathe and sing until my throat is desert-dry, under skies and under water and the ever-burning eye. _ ”

Tann’s eyes widened at her words, and he switched his translator back on before responding. “You know Solidae Drass?”

“Only a little,” she shrugged. “Poetry is a good way to learn new languages. Gives you a feel for them.”

“Have you read the novel Drass wrote? It’s not as popular as his poetry. Underrated, I think.”

Michelle shook her head. “Never heard of it.”

The Director tapped at his Omni-tool for a moment, and a second later Michelle’s datapad chirped. She looked up at Tann, confused.

“I forwarded you a copy,” he said. “I think you’ll enjoy it.”

“Are you going to snap at me if I try and thank you?” Michelle bit down on her tongue as soon as she had said it, but it was too late.

Tann looked at her for a moment. “I probably deserved that,” he said. “My meeting with Nakmor Kesh did not go well this morning. I… apologise for taking it out on you, Ms. Mayer.”

“Apology accepted,” she said. “And you can call me Michelle.”

He nodded slowly. “I suppose I could.”

“Does that mean I get to call you Jarun?”

Tann smirked. “I’d rather you didn’t. Though it’s better than Number Eight, I suppose.”

“I heard Kesh call you that earlier,” she said. “Can I ask what it means?”

“I’m surprised you don’t know already,” he sighed. “She loves that nickname. I was eighth in line for my position. The seven who would have been my predecessors either died or were exiled during the uprising.”

Michelle thought for a moment, counting silently on her fingers. “Number nine.”

“Excuse me?”

“That makes me Number Nine,” she said. “In Pediatrics, I mean. I wasn’t supposed to have my job either.”

“I didn’t know that,” he said quietly. “You could have fooled me. I’ve always thought you incredibly competent.”

Michelle fought back the flush that threatened to rise in her cheeks, and failed. “Oh. Thank you. To be honest, I didn’t think you knew me from Adam.”

“I receive performance reports from all the departments, Ms- Michelle,” he corrected himself. “Pediatrics has been doing well ever since it opened. I don’t doubt that you’re responsible for that.”

“I don’t know,” she shrugged, getting to her feet and pulling up a chair. “My staff are wonderful. They deserve just as much credit.”

Tann shook his head. “You do yourself a disservice. It’s not easy, rising to a challenge like that.”

“I suppose you would know,” Michelle said. “For what it’s worth, I think you’re doing a pretty great job too.”

The Director seemed a little taken aback by that. “Oh. Thank you. I’ve done my best. This is… not what I expected my time in Andromeda to be.”

At that moment Tann’s comms flickered into life, and Kandros appeared on the screen.

“Progress report?” Tann asked, his face the picture of stern professionalism again.

“The pathogen has been isolated, so we’re out of the woods,” Kandros said. “It’ll still be a few hours before we lift the quarantine, though. Sit tight.”

Tann sighed, resting his forehead against his knuckles. “This is not ideal.”

“Hey,” Kandros frowned. “At least  _ your  _ office has a bathroom.” The turian flickered, then disappeared.

“Well,” Michelle said, putting on the chirpy face she so often had to use for work. “I suppose we’d better make the best of this. I know a great song about a pyjak. We could sing it in rounds.”

Tann chuckled, then paused for a moment. “I think I might have a better idea.” He pulled open his desk drawer and, to Michelle’s surprise, produced a bottle of Helo. The algae-based liquor wasn’t often seen outside of salarian space, but it was safe for humans to drink. Safe, if not entirely pleasant.

“I tried this once,” Michelle said. “One of my parents bought it back from Sur’Kesh. It’s… interesting.”

“It might be the only bottle in the galaxy,” Tann said. “I was saving it for a special occasion.”

Michelle raised her eyebrows at him. “And you want to drink it  _ now _ ? Are you sure?”

“I don’t see why not,” he shrugged. “Colonising a new galaxy is time consuming. I can’t imagine there’s going to  _ be _ many ‘special occasions’ in the next few years.”

“Can’t argue with that,” Michelle said. “Besides - you’re the boss.”

There weren’t any glasses in the office - Tann was not a ‘business deals over whiskey and cigars’ kind of guy - but he managed to find two half-empty coffee cups, which he washed out in the sink. Michelle poured generous measures of the green liquid into the mugs. It smelled like grass and salt.

“We need to toast,” Michelle said, raising her cup. “What shall we toast to?”

“The Initiative?”

Michelle shook her head. “Too boring.”

“Salarians don’t really ‘toast’. You think of something.”

“Alright. Hmm.” She considered for a moment, then snapped her fingers. “Got it. To being thrown in at the deep end, and learning how to swim.”

“I like it,” Tann smiled. “Solidae Drass would be proud.” He raised his mug, and Michelle touched hers to it. The liquor was thick and vaguely earthy, but not as bad as she remembered.

They spent the next few hours talking and sipping at their mugs of Helo. Michelle had no intentions of getting particularly drunk - at some point that day she would have to go back and deal with a department full of stressed out kids - but after a while she began to feel pleasantly hazy. It had been a long time since she had simply sat and talked to someone. Work was always getting in the way.

It took a while, but eventually she managed to coax Tann into opening up about himself a little more. He told her about his life back in the Milky Way, and his motivations for joining the Initiative. Behind the professional exterior he was surprisingly idealistic. That in itself didn’t come as a surprise - no one without a capacity for dreams would join a venture as wild as the Initiative - but he spoke about Andromeda with a passion she had not expected from him. It was clear that he took his job seriously, but there was something in his words that suggested regret. Regret that he couldn’t have done more, regret that he was chained to the Nexus while Ryder and others went out to build colonies. It was a little sad, hearing him speak that way.

He prompted Michelle to talk about herself, too. She told him about her life in childcare, her education, her work on the Nexus. A few times she felt herself slipping into shop talk, then forced herself to stop. For once she didn’t want to focus on the job. There was a simple pleasure in getting to know another person. A person over the age of twelve, who didn’t eat food off the floor or bite people when they were angry. It was a novelty, for certain.

They talked a little more about poetry, too. Tann knew very little about poets outside his own race, and the two of them had switched their translators off while Michelle had attempted to recite the few passages her Helo-fogged mind could remember.

After a while she gestured for Tann to switch his translator back on. “Hey. Can I show you something on your terminal?” she said. “There’s this amazing quarian poet, Dala’Kor vas Basha, but I’m no good at the language.”

“Of course.” Tann got out of his chair to make room for Michelle, who moved around to the other side of the desk and began to type in her search.

“Listen to it in the original dialect if you get a chance,” she said. “Even if you can’t understand it, it’s beautiful.”

Once she found a decent vid she put it on, and stood back to watch it play. As they listened to the slow, lilting quarian verse, Michelle grew very aware of how close she and Tann were standing. If she reached out, just a little, she could touch his hand. She wondered idly what it would feel like. He was such lovely colours, all pale blue and-

Tann cleared his throat conspicuously, and Michelle realised that she had been staring.

“Oh,” she said. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to…” she trailed off, not sure what it was she hadn’t been meaning to do.”

“It’s alright,” Tann said, his voice quiet. “I am… glad that you were here when they called the lockdown. It’s been a long time since I had a real conversation with someone.”

Michelle swallowed. “Yeah. Me too.”

They were closer now. Dala’Kor vas Basha recited away behind them, her words now being roundly ignored. At first Michelle thought that she was imagining Tann tilting his head towards hers, but after a moment she wasn’t so sure. Then she was pressed back against the desk, and his mouth was on hers, and he was cool and soft and tasted like liquor.

Then the klaxon sounded again, and the door mechanism beeped as it unlocked.

Michelle sprang back a second before Tann’s assistant rushed into the room, their skin flushed in agitation.

“Director, is everything alright?” they said. “Kandros said just to stay put but I wasn’t sure if I should-” They stopped mid-sentence as they spotted the open bottle of Helo on the table, the poetry vid, Michelle standing conspicuously in the corner. “Oh.”

“Everything is fine,” Tann said, his voice as cool and professional as always. “Have Kandros come up here right away. I need a full report.”

The assistant nodded, looking thoroughly grateful for a reason to leave the room. They pointedly closed the door behind them.

“Well then,” Michelle said, trying to sound nonchalant. “I’d better get back to Pediatrics. Have you ever seen an angry krogan mother? It’s not pretty.”

Tann nodded. “You should. I also have business to attend to.”

Michelle felt herself deflate at his words. She had hoped that whatever spell they had been under that day wouldn’t break so quickly. Collecting her jacket and datapad, she made her way to the door.

“Michelle?”

She turned back to look at him. “Yes?”

“Are you working tomorrow night?”

“I, ah- no, I’m not, actually.”

Tann nodded. “Perhaps you would like to get a drink somewhere? If you’re not busy, of course.”

“Yeah.” Michelle couldn’t hide the grin that spread across her face. “Yeah, I think I’d like that.”


End file.
